“Indian Accent”
Hear the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky; -Rising hymns release
-ancient demons that CLING to the soul
Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth---
Moccasin makers rise from underneath; While
guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world;
Arrowheads, Ivory gems, feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss....... My veins;
Run Cold, like ice through a desert night.
Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize, my ties, my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS!
- takes place among the sanity of who I am
The spear of the perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
*
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.
I AM A BIRD!
By; PD

Leaves talking, beautiful demise
If a leaf could talk, it would say, please, take your time
life is acted out in stages, every song has it's rhyme
When a leaf dies, its dynamic impressions in its flight
a stunning display of artistry, dazzling to the sight
Green turns to crimson, flaming tangerine and gold
a leaf's transforming demise is a beauty to behold
As sap runs dry, youthful vitality turns evanescent
the beauty of a leaf's demise is resplendent iridescence
A leaf's downfall, granted, is a casualty of the season
it's journey into oblivion, is transfixing beyond reason
When a leaf, takes its leave, exits gracefully the scene
We're left breathless with the vision, an event to be seen
John Derek Hamilton
September17,2016

As the wind ripped the leaves from the trees
I thought of you
As I stood there like those trees
Stripped of all their glory
Their only crime
Giving birth to beauty
I watched them fall
All those brilliant leaves
And knew you could never stop
Poetry in motion.
THIS POEM IS NOT FOR ANY CONTEST
Written: September 14, 2014
Author: Elaine George

Fall came a trifle early
And it caught me unaware--
Seems the leaves began their falling
Turning circles in the air.
I could hear the end of summer
With the rustle of the trees--
As I latched up every window
To escape the chilly breeze.
But the cold it overtook me
As it slipped beneath the door--
And the moaning wind, it whispered:
"The summer is no more!"
~Mel

I first met Autumn when I was very, very young,
she was just a shy, quiet girl, but so very bright.
These maple trees were our favorite to play among,
as our laughter faded away with the falling sunlight.
I can still see her brown sweater, and reddish-orange hair,
blowing around her smiling face, like a flickering flame.
Her innocent voice still whispers on October's cool air,
near the place, where our lonely swing remains the same.
As the summer days said goodbye, and welcomed September,
the death of my dear, young friend came all too soon.
Autumn was one of those whom you'd always remember,
her soul was as beautiful as the shining, harvest moon.
She was here, then gone, leaving words that were never spoke,
to this day, I have never understood why Autumn had to leave.
Her presence lingers on the wind, like drifting wood-smoke,
as once a year, her playful spirit arises on All Hallow's Eve.
August, 4th, 2014

There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home

A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex

And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home

I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside
a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...
Written By: Christina A McCullouch
04/09/2013

although a man walks on the field of abundance
it saddens him because these good crops won’t do
any good for him
the leaves go
roll on the field
carried by the wind with no memories
the man goes
stepping on the leaves as well
with no memories worth keeping
abundance of the field won’t be a sign
for the road ahead, if it’s a light or a shadow
to the man who has many rivers to cross
the field of abundance is not a hope
or a way leading to a promised tomorrow
to the man who has many mountains to go over
now the man is standing both arms stretched open in the evening glow
became an abandoned scarecrow in the middle of a forgotten field

strelitzias die -
shrunken birds of paradise
sag between green leaves
* It is now autumn in the Southern Hemisphere.
Strelitzia is a genus of five species of perennial plants, native to South Africa. A common name of the genus is bird of paradise flower.

Overwhelmed with fear I whispered into the rain
Disarming defenses, Giving in to the gray
Tearing down all of my shelter within my hollowed decay
While this echoing silence gave every tear drop a name
They begin filling the voids with mundane hopes for a change
Heaven will save me from this hell and blue skies will reign
Lazily lay in green grass watching clouds drift away
It's all but a deflated dream now that the colors have changed
My thoughts have become restless noise of uncertainties rearranged
Damning all of my emotions, lies decorated with grace
Now I stand with a hardened heart in the sobering autumn rain
I'm disarmed and defenseless, Giving in to the gray

Through the lonely woods, I may head,
Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,
At the secluded horizon, I may stare,
And only you, I may see,
In those symphonies of silence,
In those melodies of calmness,
In those euphonies of quietness.
By the silent lake, I may lay,
Till the twilight fades, I may stay,
Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,
And only to you, I may talk,
Through those toungueless emotions,
Through those wordless attachments,
Through those voiceless sentiments.
In the lone meadow, I may wander,
Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,
In companionless seclusion, I may hide,
And only in you, I may find,
The depths of oneness,
The bonds of togetherness,
The cozy feel of coalescence.
In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,
At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,
Through a million wounds, I may bleed,
And only in you, I may seek,
The balm of love,
The warmth of affection,
The heal of inseparability.

As we walk like children holding hands , swinging our arms together as we walked slowly through the blanket of the Autumn leaves. The path we walk is as it were never ending .The tall forest trees that lined each side , appeared to funnel off to the distant open sky . Sun now setting leaving a Orange sky that blended with the leaves all about us . That cool evening breeze upon our glowing faces . The whisper of the trees as they swayed in the wind , but the loudest sound of it all was the beating of our hearts . No it was not just the chill of the wind that made our faces glow , it was the love in our hearts that showed. Yes we were children for that moment , full of innocents of a love so pure at heart, a love so true , nothing could tear it apart . A love that memories are made of and dreams that come true .There is nothing so good as the love you have for me and I for you.
The path we walk that seemed to go on forever , was actually our love through out our lives ,as we travel together through it.
TAC

for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...

His fingers left blood on the strings
but, come time to walk away he hadn’t really learned anything.
Course and dried brushes sit atop the rubbish,
His mind held a perfection too delicate for his clumsy hands to create.
He opened his mouth to sing like a jay but, instead of notes it was rust that fell out. Part of the wear and tear of early adulthood.
But then, this same boy picked up a pen and found some paper. The pen in his hand felt as natural his own bones and he began to write.
He wrote every tear
He scribed every star
He built towers from mountains with every line
High enough that the angel’s just might hear them.
He made pages for chapters of his life that could make those seraphim weep sapphire tears.
He could write the wind blowing across the nape of your neck in Autumn
And make you feel the chill on your skin.
He could articulate the sad beauty of a lover’s quarrel that ends in tears
If they cry, it makes it all more real.
He documents the history of a war inside himself that will never end.
The loss and the gain,
But not those of monetary nature.
When life begins to scream around him
All he must do to silence it is to put it in a stanza.
The boy’s tongue can pave the way for good intentions, and we all know those can fall South. He finds strength. And with this Strength a power.
Finally the boy knew his gift. But how is he meant to use it and who will truly listen to the personal strands of his soul he ties together with punctuation?
And now that he has tasted the pleasure of his power, will that be enough?

evening moon rise
I watch with the fountain,
a youth
searching for answers
who am I
what am I
where am I really?
most importantly
why am I here?
the rainbow colors of the water
make me lonelier
a lost soul
they call me
suddenly a vision
of the fountain
and the water
flowing into
the other.
oh, I am both
the water
and the fountain
flowing endlessly
Still lonely
and alone
beating heart
now

…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
when the fall gives its rights/
to the winter/
you know I will come/
for good or for bad/
I’ll board the train/
Passing by / stations/ and countries/
I promised/ and I remember/
You said “there’s no fortuitous meetings/
…and I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When you’ll lose the trace/
When my firmest snickers/ wipe out/
I will/ I will come…
Unexpectedly/ knowing solely the door/
Just the road / for sure/
Before/ take you I’ll ask/
“are you ready to go?” /
You are ready/ I know/
All the noise doesn’t matter/
I don’t haste/ will be later/
…I will come.
When it finally turns out/
That November is overthrown by December/
When the first snow falls down/
Will be clear/ that nobody is remembered/
And I will come…
Somewhere in chest/ between ribs/
You slashed me/ with thoughts/
I can feel it with lips/ crawling under my cloths/
Our world is alive/ our life/ we’re alike/
And I….
I will come.
When the first snow falls down/
When the death is changed into fate/
When the winter gives up/
To wait/ for spring/
to stay with shining sun/
I will come.

She
She smiled, gently,
her warmth infusing me,
with a serene stillness of time.
She settled, slowly,
in my waking thoughts,
a soothing balm of simple joy.
She remains, scribbled,
on the walls of my fractured heart,
memories of happiness that once breathed...

Autumn is fallen leaves,
the shoots push out from a gap of rocks that still covered
with yester-year’s snow, by a brook runs carrying melting ice;
it grows to a tree struggling though long and wearisome summer days
beaten by fierce heat all the day and the night.
And in that way, when the summer’s long days move to west
shoved by the west wind and dye a corner of the sky to red,
the leaves also become red and move to the west following
the waning sun.
And when the tree becomes not able
holding the weight of the west wind that comes hurriedly
pushing the weakening sun rays aside and violently shakes
the limbs the leaves fall to the ground and men, because
the leaves fall, I suppose, call it autumn.
The leaves breaking to pieces under feet,
rolling on the ground pushed by the wind
and drifting along on the water are dead leaves
and humming with the decaying season watching
those autumn leaves is a touching requiem.

The blood of nature
seeps from branches as it falls
carried by wind’s laugh
in a journey through time’s bid
onto man-trodden concrete.
Thunder bellows rage
while clouds shroud themselves in tears
and lightning shreds night
carving glimpses of shadows
into dusk’s timeless glory.
Grey skies petrified
look over earthen colors
encompassing cold
winds of change in the seasons
as was done in years of old.

Those Distant African Nights...
1.
The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,
a cool breeze teasing your bare back,
streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,
as my hands stroked your hair,
kissing your soft mouth,
holding you,
ever so tight.
2.
You whispered that you loved me,
and I kept silent,
the rain fell,
shadows danced,
thunder rolled,
the breeze teased your naked back,
you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,
the rain washed over our tender nights,
lightning and candlelight,
etching poems on your burnished skin,
yet,
a fear gnawed at me,
deep within.
3.
We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,
now, after numberless thunderstorms,
the rain that falls,
echo the countless tears that I have shed.
4.
You are long gone,
far away,
happy, I pray,
yet the memories persist,
those precious moments shall never,
ever,
like the Jo'burg rains,
trickle away,
and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,
for it was I who was not worthy,
then,
and it is I who is not worthy,
now...
5.
You were always true,
it was I who always,
always,
refused to,
to give myself,
completely to you.

hello! hey! boungiorno! what is the date?/
this world of dimensions created duality/
no letters/ no words/ are enough to express/
someone like you/ in reality/
i filled all your emptines/ MY still quiet bay/
as Jhon opened world in his Yoko/
you searched perfect princes/ looked for "right him"/
now at only one overman looking/
i swear/ i will hold you/ as much as i can/
would become all the axes/ and outer space/
voice is speared by the screaming wind/
falling down/ flakes to your place/
going crazy just seeing your knees/
don't regret anything/ my Benito/
unbelievable/ perfect/ unbearable/
you whisper/ "la comedia e finita"//